


Free

by Viridian5



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Drama, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-02
Updated: 2002-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe in which Ray Vecchio's replacement was chosen for actually looking like Ray Vecchio, Fraser meets Ray K later on.  Some things are meant to be. Sometimes it just takes a little longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Burning Down the House," "Eclipse," "Strange Bedfellows," "Perfect Strangers," and "The Ladies Man."
> 
> I got the kernel for this story around the same time that I picked up the one for "[Nevermore](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4409)," in March 2000.
> 
> Thanks to Kasha and LaT for read-throughs. Kasha helped remind me that not everybody has a window into my brain to see the stuff I know happened but didn't actually write into the story, while LaT saved me from making an ass of myself on the attorney titles.

Ray halted in front of me and put her hands on her hips, making her large gym bag slide off her shoulder and down to her elbow. "Benton. What are you doing here?"

I could have lied and said something about having gone for an evening walk, but I preferred not to, especially since I didn't even have Diefenbaker with me. "I suspect that you're involved in something, and I want to help."

"Nothing's going on. You can mosey along."

"Nothing."

"Nothing. I'm going to the gym. See? Gym bag."

"Ray, you were so twitchy today that I wondered if perhaps you hadn't mixed anywhere near enough water into your morning Kool-Aid powder."

"'Twitchy'? Was not."

"Were too."

Her smile looked more lopsided than usual. "I'm a corrupting influence on you."

"You can't take full responsibility for that."

"You're not gonna go away if I tell you to, are you?"

"I'm afraid not."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you what's up once we reach my car."

"You're already two blocks from your apartment."

"Cloak and dagger stuff. Anybody watching my apartment might figure I was going for a walk instead of walking to my car, which I deliberately parked in Siberia."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"You could always leave," she answered brightly.

"I will not abandon you."

"Fine, fine. Here we are. Get in the damned car. You can drive. Your usual crawl would be good for once."

I swallowed my surprise as she pressed the keys in my hand and pushed me toward the door. As I adjusted the seat and mirrors, I noticed that she was undressing in the back seat. "This explanation should be a good one."

"Maybe. You'll probably be the judge of that. Drive, pardner. Our destination is Metropol. I'll tell you when to make your turns."

As I drove out of the parking spot, Ray began to talk. "This is about looking out for a friend of mine, another detective from my old district. Turn right."

"Have I met him?"

"Nah. Ray's undercover."

"He's also named Ray?"

"I know you have a lot of those in your life."

"And out of my life."

"Sorry."

The Ray I wanted most in my life was quite far out of it, in Las Vegas, Nevada in fact. The one I wished out of it--Anthony Marchese, "phony Ray" as Ray called him in private with me although we all called him "Ray Vecchio" publicly--was far too much in it.

Ray said, "This friend of mine is actually named Stanley Raymond Kowalski."

"His name is Stanley Kowalski?"

"See why he goes by 'Ray'? Yeah." In the mirror I could see her pulling a stiletto-heeled boot over a fishnet-clad calf, her foot braced against the window. "That day you met me? I'd gone to Welsh to talk about my concerns over Ray. Turn left."

That day I'd sought help from Marchese--I would not call him "Ray" when I did not have to--with General Bowman, but he of course had refused. "Not my problem," Marchese had said. To my surprise, the young woman, a detective on her day off, walking out of Lieutenant Welsh's office offered her help in his stead. Rachel Walker transferred to the 27th only a month later.

I worked well with her, and she gave me an excuse to help the 27th now that I was estranged from Marchese. God help me, I'd tried to put aside my feelings and work with that man for the sake of Ray's cover, but I couldn't turn a blind eye on a daily basis.

And self-absorbed, blithely crooked Anthony Marchese looked so much like Ray....

"So I have your friend to thank for our first meeting?" I asked, my voice scrupulously even.

"Yeah, and for me sticking around the 27th. Damn, where do I start?" She sighed and put on the other boot. "Okay, Ray lost his ex-wife recently. You know, in that explosion that everyone originally thought was meant to off Councilman Orsini?"

"Yes." Study of the bomb fragments had revealed its maker to be the abusive husband of one of Stella Kowalski's clients. Under interview Dwayne Weston had cracked and admitted that he'd crafted the bomb to kill Assistant State's Attorney Kowalski and get his wife back. In his insanity and jealousy he'd killed her, Councilman Orsini, and five other people with his bomb.

"Ray was undercover at the time elsewhere, so he couldn't keep track of her the way he usually did, which his friends had been relieved over before the bombing. He was convinced that if he'd been there, she'd still be alive."

"'Keep track of her'? Are you saying that your friend is a stalker?"

"He was close to it sometimes if he thought she was getting serious with her newest guy."

"How would he know if he didn't stalk her full time?"

"She was good friends with his mother still. You have to understand, Benton, Ray and Stella met when he was 12 and for him at least it was love at first sight. She was a part of his and his family's life for about two decades. Not that I'm excusing him or proud of him for following her around sometimes after the divorce like some stalker/whipped puppy hybrid." She made an angry snort that suggested a wealth of history. "Anyway, he fell to pieces after her murder and so did his assignment. He took some leave, then threw himself into the next assignment. Too soon, I thought, but the brass moved him on out, and our lieutenant couldn't say a thing about it. That's when I started noticing odd stuff. Turn left. He was getting a lot of police scrutiny, but not the right kind for what he was doing. His old senior officer from _way_ back, Sam Franklin, started showing up around the 23rd once in a while."

I didn't like the bit about her Ray's stalker tendencies at all, but she seemed concerned. "You think Franklin may intend to do him harm?"

"I'm not sure. It was all instinct. But I was figuring there was something they didn't want him to do. Or maybe something that they did want him to do, so they could bust him on it. I went looking into it as quietly as I could but started getting into trouble anyway. People were noticing me. Some of them were harassing me. I figured it was only a matter of time before they got me out of the way by putting me into something intensively deep cover."

"You had to leave the 23rd."

"Yeah. Things were getting too hot there. Lieutenant Welsh helped me get the transfer out. He knew the both of us, me and Ray, from an old case."

"He's a good man."

"Oh yeah. Whoever was after Ray maybe figured that my transfer meant I was getting cold feet about what I was doing, because they let it go through. Hey, and my transfer let me meet you, right? It's rare to find a guy who motors slowly enough that I can put makeup on while he's driving." She put her hand on my shoulder while using the rear view mirror as a guide to apply her lipstick. "Right now I have a lead on what might be going on--and the really funny thing is that I might not have gone in that direction if Franklin hadn't shown up--so I set up a meeting with Ray. But he's undercover, so I have to be sneaky. I'm going into a club so he can pick me up and take me somewhere. We'll spill our beans at some no-tell motel."

"You need help."

"Someone to watch my back would be nice, but this is risky. I'm breaking so many regs here."

"Is that why you didn't tell me any of this at the beginning?"

"You come off as Stickler Guy, dotting every I and crossing every T. I couldn't take the chance that you'd blow my plans. By the time I started realizing that you were more Justice Guy than Stickler Guy and that maybe I could bring you in if you wanted to be, it would have been awkward bringing it up. Besides, how do you shove something like this into a casual conversation? Start looking for parking here."

"This is a warehouse district."

"Metropol's a few blocks away."

Once I parked, she turned on the light and started to apply the rest of her new look. Dark eye shadow and a strategic use of black kohl liner gave her eyes a more exotic look and made it harder to decide their color. Blush heightened and accentuated her cheekbones. She'd combed a burgundy color agent into her black hair, giving it streaks of color highlights, then scrunched it until it stood up a bit. I barely recognized her myself.

"I'll be at least an hour in there, since I don't want it to look like I came in just for Ray. You could go home, ya know."

"I could come in with you."

"And get made by anybody who might be hanging with Ray's alter ego. Club's packed, so there's no way to keep an eye on me from a distance."

"I'll wait in the car. I worry about you."

"You're a good guy, Benton Fraser." She frowned and adjusted her clothing. "And more of a lady than I am. How's my lipstick?"

"Immaculate in a way that suggests you're wanton and available."

She grinned. "Perfect. Hey, it's cold out here. You gonna be okay?"

"Need I remind you of my origins?"

"Nope. Nor do you need to remind me of your layer of subcutaneous fat again. That thought's sticking with me 'til the day I die."

When she left the car she struggled on her stiletto heels for a few steps on the icy sidewalk, then picked up the knack of it again and walked away. I knew from experience how high heels could change one's gait, further obscuring identity.

As if her tiny skirt hadn't helped enough. If Marchese could see her now, his eyes would crawl all over her body. After all, he checked her out even when he made his usual comments that she was too mannish and needed the right man to make her a woman. Sometimes I wondered if he lived to dirty everything and everyone around him.

Surely my personal feelings made him out to be a worse monster than he could possibly be in truth, but then he would say something or do something, and I would feel utterly justified in classifying him as demonic, some changeling set in Ray Vecchio's place.

The fake fur coat Ray wore didn't descend past her waist, so she had to be very cold, but she walked on as if she didn't feel it. She didn't need me to stand as her knight defender from the world, but I was honored to be her partner and support.

I occupied myself with several mental diversions to pass the time as I waited. Eventually two lanky figures approached the car, each moving with a liquid sway, the female leaning on the male to whisper in his ear. When Ray knocked on my window, I rolled it down for her, turned on the car's interior light, and unlocked the doors on my side.

She bent a bit and leaned in. "Move over, guy. I'm driving this ship."

Her wild-haired, slightly rumpled companion leaned in beside her and said, "You might wanna bend over a bit differently. I was seeing London and France back there." Then he looked at me, grinning widely. "Hey there," he asked, his worn voice soft but playful.

Caught, I gave thanks that I hadn't faced that barrage in broad daylight, where I could see him better. As it was, he left me with a strange feeling in my chest. "Hello."

His eyes took on a more appreciative look as they drank me in. "What _are_ you trying to do to my reputation, babe?"

"Burnish it," Ray answered, saving me from having to formulate an answer. "Get in the car before I beat you."

"I don't remember agreeing to that, but if you're offering...."

Ray smacked him about the shoulders until, laughing, he settled himself into the back seat. I slid across the front seat so Ray could drive. I asked, "Can you manipulate the pedals in those heels?"

"You don't wanna know what I can do in these boots."

"I do," Ray Kowalski said cheerfully from the backseat. When she flashed him an obscene gesture, he... cackled.

We said nothing as Ray drove, and I found myself grateful that I didn't need to fish through my jangled head for conversational topics. They had apparently decided to save their words until we reached a room. It showed me that Ray wanted to give him her full attention.

Comfortably silent, they radiated anticipation and a single purpose, reminding me that I'd attached myself to them against Ray's original wishes. I felt pinned to my seat, strange and alone, amidst their mutual determination, the muted energy that he radiated just as she did, and the sour smell of stale cigarette smoke on their clothes and skin.

No matter. I would be useful. Ray no doubt planned something dangerous. As her partner and friend, I was obligated to provide support and backup.

If the friend she proposed to help held some personal fascination to me, that merely provided a pleasant side benefit.

I watched him unobtrusively through the rear view mirror. He looked tired, though otherwise his face was blank, his gaze unfocused and abstracted from his half-closed eyes. It gave an observer the impression that he labored under a burden he'd hefted for too long. Then he apparently noticed me watching because he transformed, smiling impishly, eyes lighting up, inviting me to share the joke of the three of us driving to a shabby motel room for an assignation.

It reminded me why people had named such a quality "charm."

Ray and Ray had done much undercover work, necessitating a skill for acting and lightning quick improvisation. His smile might be the product of nothing more than a habit of ingratiation necessary for winning the confidences of criminals.

My immediate, uncharacteristic reaction to him could have come from loneliness and vulnerability. Ray Vecchio's departure from my life still ached like a rotten tooth that I couldn't resist tonguing, while Anthony Marchese drifted constantly at the corner of my eye as a steady irritation. Ray alleviated my suffering to the utmost of her ability, which was great indeed, yet I remained vividly aware that I lacked something in my life that she could not give me. That perhaps no one could give me. In the presence of a vivacious stranger who smiled at me so winningly, who was limned so appealingly in streetlight and shadow, I clutched.

Surely he wouldn't be as magnetic in proper lighting when I could see him clearly. Ray said that he'd stalked his ex-wife.

His now dead ex-wife, who had needed protection after all.

Ray exited the car with great speed as soon as we parked and returned with a key. Prudent, she'd chosen a motel whose rooms had exterior doors, giving us greater privacy. "We have two hours," she said.

Ray Kowalski seemed to be on the verge of making another remark but stopped when Ray directed a long-suffering look his way.

We entered a truly squalid room. The odors of harsh cleansers, dampness, and spent sex battled for supremacy. The carpet squelched a bit beneath my boots. Beaten furniture slouched in their places. I could try to identify the sources of the stains on the bedspread, but I'd probably prefer not to. Something small skittered across the corner. The LED display of a broken nearby clock blinked the time in numbers that didn't exist. I had no urge whatsoever to investigate the bathroom.

"Wow," Ray Kowalski said. "You get this one from Triple A?"

"The promise of a heart-shaped tub in every room drew me," she said.

"Classy. You realize I am not putting my bare ass anywhere near anything in that bathroom?"

"Yep. Hey, it's cheap, and the guy behind the desk is professionally blind."

"Ray, it's worse than the last one and _that_ one was worse than what we had when you went undercover as one of my bitches."

"You do this often?" I asked.

"Not really," he said. "This is just the second time Ray called me out to talk to me. You're the Mountie, Benton Fraser? I'm glad to meet you, especially after how Ray talks about ya. Ray Kowalski." He shook my hand, his grip firm. This room hardly offered good lighting, so my fascination remained. How odd to think that I wouldn't have met Ray if not for this man. "Can't believe my little Ray works with the Mountie. You're semi-famous in Chicago, ya know."

Ray flipped him another obscene gesture. "Your 'little Ray' is going to kick your ass."

"Heard that before. So what's up?" He started to sit on the bed, then remembered himself. "You think you know what's going on?"

"I started to ask myself why Sam Franklin was so interested in you and found a possible answer. Beth Botrelle faces execution in four days."

Ray Kowalski might have died on the spot he'd gone so pale and still. "Are you saying she's innocent?" I could drown in the pain in his eyes.

Ray shook her head swiftly, her unwontedly long earrings flying. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe Franklin just thinks that you hearing about it when it hits the news will make you break cover and reopen the investigation all on your own. He might not want you to break cover, or he may be hiding something in the Botrelle case that he doesn't want you to know."

"Pardon me," I said, "but I'm not as familiar with this case and woman you speak of as the both of you apparently are. As an outside party, perhaps I can be objective in a way you cannot." I couldn't stand in the presence of such pain and do nothing.

"Yeah. Ray says you're good, so... okay." Ray Kowalski lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. Seeing Ray's disapproval, he muttered, "I know, I know. Haven't had an easy time of it lately, okay?" He shook his head, closed his eyes, and started to pace in a tight circle. "Okay. Okay, let me go through it for you. It was my very first big case eight years ago. Door was open. I was a rookie. No backup. It was dark. Quiet." His soft voice sounded vague, distant, as he walked through his memories. "Then I saw him, Jake Botrelle, lying there in a pool of blood. There was a piece of paper near the body... in the blood. I picked it up. Then I heard a noise, shower noise. I went to the bathroom door, and there were these bloody footprints covering the bathmat, which was white. It was the shower running. There was all this steam, and... and... there she was. Beth Botrelle, fully clothed, standing in the shower, soaking wet."

Agitated, he gestured with the cigarette in one hand while running his other hand through his blond hair. I gave thanks that he remembered which hand to use. "It was an open and shut case against her. Number one: her fingerprints were all over the trigger. Number two: she had threatened to kill her husband in public. Number three: she could not account for her movements on the night in question. The whole thing was over in a week."

I thought about it. As I did so, I could feel Ray nearby hoping at me to find something that she hadn't noticed herself. "What about the piece of paper? The one you said you found near the body?"

"A little piece of paper is not gonna change the outcome."

"Ray," Ray said, "you never mentioned the piece of paper to me before."

That sounded promising indeed. "Please indulge me, Detective Kowalski. Let's just follow the paper trail."

He truly looked exhausted, yet still compelling. "Okay. Follow the paper trail."

"You said that you found the paper near the body. Did you read what was on it?"

"No. I heard the shower. I shoved it in my pocket and I carried it with me to the bathroom.

"And after that?"

"Everybody else showed up, the backup. And eventually I gave it to Detective Franklin."

Yes. "What was Franklin's role here?"

Eyes closed, remembering, Ray shrugged. "He was the primary investigator. He bagged it, tagged it, and that was it. He told me that everything would be okay." Ray's eyes opened, and he looked, impossibly, more stricken. "Oh, God. I contaminated the evidence."

For once wordless, horrified, Ray had her fist against her mouth. Surprisingly, she looked younger in her decadent gear and face paint than she did usually. Her gaze flickered to me.

I said, "Procedure would suggest that it had been... disturbed, yes."

"I forgot about that," he said. "I forgot about that until right now. Look, careers are wrecked over things like that. What happens to me? I get promoted."

He _was_ a good man.

"Ray," I said, "you mustn't be so hard on yourself. You were young. It was your first situation. There was blood on the floor. There was a corpse. It could happen to anybody."

"Franklin," Ray said, her tone dark. "You fucked up, but if the more experienced primary investigator hadn't been compromised, he would have brought the paper out. He took advantage of your mistake."

Ray Kowalski took another deep breath off his cigarette. "I'd rather it all be my fuck-up than--"

"Sam Franklin being a crooked son of a bitch who'd let an innocent woman die to protect his secrets?"

"When the paper didn't come up in the trial, I figured it was nothing."

She snarled, "You trusted him. You should have been able to trust him. The fact that he's sniffing around now just supports the idea that he's guilty as sin."

"Or that he's afraid I'll fuck up my assignment and career by looking into this."

I almost expected to see sparks fly between them. I interjected, "We proceed as if Beth Botrelle hasn't been proven guilty yet."

"We?" Ray Kowalski asked.

"I will," Ray said, her dark eyes fierce in their rings of black kohl, "and Fraser too, if he's game. You can't mix in."

"I have to mix in! If she's innocent, I have to fix my mistake!"

"Sam Franklin is expecting you to, and he wants to stop you. You know why he expects you to throw it all away chasing this."

Ray Kowalski could have been shot in the gut from the way he reacted. He almost seemed to crumple into himself. The urge to go to him, hold him up, coursed through my body, but I resisted. He wouldn't appreciate such attention from a stranger. Ray watched him, disturbed but unwilling to relent yet.

"Everything I do and say is not about Stella," he answered softly.

She shook her head. "Another woman's in danger, and this one maybe you can save. Anybody who knows you knows that'll press every button you have. You'd be reckless on Botrelle's behalf usually, but now... now you could be really dangerous to yourself. And Franklin, guilty or not, is waiting to catch you in the act."

"I can't do nothing!"

"You can finish out your assignment and nail _those_ guys. You can trust us to do the rest."

"Let us save her in your stead," I said. "We can be relentless too but also more objective. Ray is an excellent detective--"

"I know that," he said with the shadow of a smile.

"--and some people reckon me to be formidable in my own right. If Beth Botrelle is innocent, we will prove it and expose the true malefactors."

"Did he just say 'malefactors'?" Ray asked Ray, but he had a certain light in his eyes now. A light I'd put there.

"You'd be amazed at the stuff that comes out of his mouth," she answered, beaming. "Will you let us do it for you? Will you keep on your assignment and trust us to work this case even though not being directly involved will kill you with impatience?"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way...." He took a deep breath, and his tone became more serious. "I do trust you. Both of you."

"Is there anything else you can remember that might help?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. That's it. Then we're done?"

I looked to Ray, who nodded and said, "Yeah, that's it."

"Think I'll walk home then. It's not far from here, really."

"Let me drive you," Ray said.

"Nah. Less you're seen around me, the better."

"Walking through this neighborhood at this time of night?"

"I'll be fine," he said, his face momentarily gaining a nearly psychotic look that should scare more than a few people away from him.

"I don't think you should be alone tonight," she said softly. Given how worn out and pained Ray Kowalski looked usually, I concurred.

"I could always hire a prostitute on my way home."

"Ray."

He put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her in close, and kissed the side of her face. "I'll be fine. I almost have enough to put the guys I'm on away for a long time. Everything'll be done soon."

"Try to sound less suicidal, will ya?"

"Tell her I'll be okay, will ya?" he asked me.

"I cannot," I answered. "Only you can assure Ray of that."

His mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. I kept my hands fisted at my sides to keep them to myself.

"Yeah, yeah. Wanna rumple the bed?"

He couldn't have asked that. Or meant it. "Excuse me?"

Ray pulled thin rubber gloves out of her pocket, put them on, and whipped the bedspread and sheets around. Oh. I couldn't blame her for being unwilling to touch anything barehanded.

As Ray went ahead to drop off the key, Ray Kowalski whispered to me, "Thanks for being willing to back Ray up. She hasn't had any really good partners before."

I submerged my surprised pleasure and asked, "You weren't partners?"

"On and off. Never permanent-like. I wasn't even a good enough friend to her."

"I suspect you're being harder on yourself than you should be."

He shook his head and buttoned his coat. "Good night, Benton." On his way off he stopped to whisper in Ray's ear, then walked away, slouching deeply, into the cold night.

We followed him in the car at a distance until we saw him enter his building. As we drove past it, I saw a curtain pull away from one of the windows and a figure look out to the street. Perhaps Ray Kowalski, perhaps not.

I couldn't sleep that night, not while my thoughts and pulse raced so. Dief grumbled that I was keeping him awake and asked me what I'd done, but I couldn't explain it to him. I couldn't even explain it to myself.

  


* * *

"We have to get that note. Looks like we'll be making a trip to Evidence." Ray yawned widely. This morning her face looked like her own again with its light tracing of eyeliner and touch of tinted lip balm. "Damn. My feet hurt, it feels like my eyes, sinuses, and nose took an acid wash--even though I used to smoke myself--and I'm dead tired. Nights out didn't used to phase me, but I guess I'm not getting any younger."

"My experience suggests that to be a common condition."

"Listen to you, the King of Snark. You kiss your dog with that mouth?"

"My experience also suggests that Dief's interests don't lie in that direction."

"Yeah, but how many times did you try to make out with him before you figured that out?" Ray unwrapped her scarf from around her head, getting an interested look from Francesca. "What's up, Frannie?"

"You added a little color to your hair. Looks good."

"Thanks," Ray said, then muttered to me as we continued walking, "With all the technological advances of our time, they still haven't figured out a way to make temporary color, you know, temporary?"

"Apparently not. I think the burgundy highlights look fetching."

"Well, I guess it's okay then."

"Walker, have some pride! What is up with that coat?" Detective Huey said. "'Morning, Fraser."

Ray turned and gestured like a runway model to display her faded black trench coat. "It's just old."

"It's ratty."

"We can't all be the fashion plate you are. Unless you want to raise my salary or become my sugar daddy...."

"Away from me, Satan."

When I returned with my tea and her water, Ray looked up from her phone call to mouth her thanks to me, then said into the receiver, "I see. Thank you. Goodbye," and put it down. As she stirred grape powder through her water, she sighed. "Yeah, thanks for nothing. They won't let me see her."

"There must be a way," I answered.

As she sipped her Kool-Aid, she started to visibly perk up a bit, becoming more alert. "Yeah, but I don't think making a big noise at this stage in our investigation is a good idea. At least not over this. I just wanted to see her, talk to her, find out if I could tell.... But that'd be all instinct anyway. Nothing we could use to save her."

If we were on to something, there'd be fewer roadblocks if we remained as stealthy as possible for as long as we could. "Agreed."

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"Justice and a possibly innocent woman's life are at stake. Besides, you're my friend and Ray is yours."

Ray grinned.

A bit of friendliness--Ray called it "flirting" and nudged me, while I merely smiled--and a bit of research gave us the number of the evidence bag we needed and sent us off to the storage facility. Once there, we discovered that the contents of every fifth bag we searched through had been switched. Eventually we found what we'd come for, which had been placed not in bag 26 as it should have been but in bag 111, noted in the books as containing an eyebrow pencil. Given that the distribution had a pattern, we could only conclude that it had been deliberate. As no other scraps of paper belonged to that lot, it was probably the one. When two armed men came in looking for us, it seemed ever more likely that we had the right trail of inquiry. A little effort on our parts enabled us to avoid our pursuers.

In a celebratory mood, and impatient to scrutinize the paper, Ray let me drive. Riding back to the 27th, she said, "It doesn't look like anything that could set a woman free. No confession or information that makes any difference to me. Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not allowed to 'hmm'? You do it all the time."

"No, that is 'ah.'"

"I stand corrected."

"You're not going to tell me what you're thinking, are you?"

"Nope. You're getting a taste of your own medicine and liking it."

"I sincerely doubt the last part."

"We have to be pulling up the right rocks, because look at all the worms squirming for cover...."

As soon as we entered the squad room, Lieutenant Welsh called Ray into his office. She raised an eyebrow at me, then walked in. Eventually, a man I didn't know opened the door and looked me over. "What do you do?" he snapped.

"Uh, well sir, I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and--"

He walked off before I could finish, so I simply walked inside Lieutenant Welsh's office and closed the door behind me. Ray had a nearly savage smile on her face as she rocked on her toes.

"Good one, Walker," Welsh said, only slightly sarcastic.

"We got 'em," Ray said. "We're on the right track. Have to be. Bedford has something to lose here, just like I figured. Might have suppressed the evidence."

"State's Attorney Bedford?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. He just _ordered_ me to back off."

Welsh said, "Hey, go home. You don't look so good. Take a few days off. What you do on your own time is your own business."

"Yeah, thanks. I feel a bad cough coming on, probably super contagious. I'll be checking out soon."

As we left, Ray said, "We need to decide our next move."

I answered, "We need to find out everything we can about Jake Botrelle. If his wife didn't kill him, someone else must have. We need to find the reason."

"Gotcha. Were any of the crime scene videotapes in the boxes?"

"I didn't see them. I'm sure we won't get a second look but I do have another source."

"Coolness. Let's hit the files and get a better picture of the late, great Jake."

As our research shed light on Jake Botrelle's life, Ray took to calling him "the late, great, fake Jake." Apparently he'd been a liar, a philanderer, and a crooked officer. Eventually we found "Mermaid." Ray told me that "mermaid" wasn't any kind of police nomenclature she'd ever heard of, and the name remained a mystery, possibly an important one. We also discovered monthly payments to a place named "Calahan's." Then Detective Dewey--who'd heard by now about our efforts to free a woman he considered scum, a copkiller--made trouble. Fortunately for him, Welsh reminded Ray of her impending illness and need to leave before she knocked Dewey's teeth down his throat.

As Ray went to get her coat, I heard, "Hey, Benny. I'd like a word in private with you." The accent, even the voice, sounded so close to Ray Vecchio's that a wave of cognitive dissonance hit me every time Anthony Marchese spoke. He nodded his head toward Ray. "Away from the dyke."

I wanted to object to his names for both of us, but my numerous past objections had made no difference to him. "Yes, Ray."

In general I tried to avoid him as much as possible, even if it made me feel vaguely cowardly. My peace of mind remained precious to me. Alas, in this situation I had no errand I could flee his presence with.

He led me to the closet, making me wonder if any of my memories of Ray Vecchio would remain untouched by this pretender by the time he finished his assignment. In the chancy light of the single, bare hanging lightbulb, tall, slim, well-dressed Marchese looked even more like Ray. He even favored the same close-cropped hairstyle, revealing the similarly elegant curve of his skull. His similarly green eyes were currently cloaked in shadow. At least they preferred different cologne, or I wouldn't be able to bear being in such close quarters with him at all.

"How long are you going to stay mad at me, Constable Fraser? You know you're jeopardizing your friend's cover by not going along."

Of course Marchese went right for the jugular with the sharp edge of guilt. "Friends have been known to cool off to one another now and then."

Marchese shrugged. "Yeah, but it's not safe."

"Neither I nor Ray's reputation have been safe since you appeared here."

"Garbo only winged you. You didn't even need stitches."

"And you shot her dead afterward."

He grinned. "She shot my partner! What was I supposed to do? It was ruled as justified. God, you're impossible to please. I got IA off Vecchio's case."

"After you cursed him for being an amateur and made a mysterious call that suddenly cleared everything up. You're a dirty cop."

"So was the real Vecchio."

The closet walls seemed to be closing in on me. "He is an honorable man."

"Then explain the missing kilos." He stood too close to me, the hanging overhead light giving him a sinister look. "You turned a blind eye to him, Benny."

I put my palms against his chest and gently but insistently pushed him away. "He is an honorable man. Unlike you. If not for my concern over Ray's cover, I would turn you in. That you are now Ray Vecchio is the only thing saving you. However, I cannot turn a daily blind eye to your doings." I felt dirty enough as it was. The only thing that gave me comfort was that Ray and I were keeping a running tab of his misdeeds that we could turn over to the proper authorities once he no longer held Ray Vecchio's cover.

"What do I have to do to get you to cut me a break?" He sneered. "If I have to fuck you like he did--"

"We never did that," I interrupted, nearly snarling. Never did it, no matter how much I'd wanted it. Yet Marchese had to make that an evil thing too.

"But you sure do want it. I can tell. You think I don't feel you watching me? You don't always remember who I am at first." His lip curled, transforming his face into the perfect mirror of Ray's look of contemptuous hauteur. "You don't have anything on me, especially since you're not with me day to day anymore. But I have stuff on you that could screw you up real bad if you try to bring me down. You might even end up taking Walker with you."

Rage nearly clouded my vision. "If you're trying to convince me to partner with you again, your tactics leave much to be desired."

Marchese stepped back and put his arms out in a gesture of pleasant, joking surrender. "Your choice. Hey, it's your... friend's ass on the line. And I think you like his ass a lot."

I could feel my teeth grinding. "This conversation is over."

"Fine."

I breathed deeply the moment I opened the door. The air felt so much fresher out here. When Francesca walked past us, Marchese's eyes flicked in her direction. "If you ever touch her," I snarled quietly, "I will break every one of your fingers."

"Hey, my sister's a beautiful woman, even if you can't notice it. Which is actually a good thing, since you're not good enough for her anyway." He straightened his silk tie and walked away, apparently undisturbed.

Ray walked up behind me and muttered, "The Mirror Universe wants its Ray Vecchio back, and I'm ready to send him there. One molecule at a time. I'm so glad he's not living at the house."

For the Vecchio family's sake, so was I. "You shouldn't speak ill of him." Not in public.

She smirked, then asked, "You okay?"

"Fine."

She nodded in a way that suggested she'd let it go for now. "I feel the need for some fresh air. Wanna get dinner? Then I can go home to my sickbed."

I understood. After we'd walked a few blocks away, she said, "I don't see anything special about this note that could prove her innocence, but the mislabeling of the evidence gave me a thought."

"That perhaps this isn't the real note?"

"I love you, Benton."

"Ray has to see it and tell us what he thinks of it."

"Yeah. Question is, how do we do that without breaking his cover or calling attention to ourselves? If I go do it and someone notices me, it'll break it all wide open."

My heart pounded. "I could take it to Ray." I wanted to see him again. It worried me. I should have said nothing, but my offer made sense, no matter how many selfish desires I could satisfy with it at the same time.

Ray nodded, then smiled. "You ever deliver pizza, Benton?"

  


* * *

I adjusted my baseball cap and my hold on the pizza box, then hit the door buzzer. "Yeah?" Ray Kowalski's voice sounded flat, annoyed. Oddly endearing.

"Pizza delivery," I said, layering on a hint of his accent. "Night owl special."

Silence followed, then Ray said, "Open the door when you hear the buzzer."

I felt some small nervousness as I walked through the building, though for all the wrong reasons. I could be astonishingly silly sometimes.

When he opened the apartment door, in character, he looked harder edged than he had in the motel room, but something warm lingered in his blue-green eyes when he looked at me. He crackled with life, and I had to do something before I became utterly distracted. I handed him the prized paper and hoped that he had as fast a mind and as good a gift for improvisation as Ray had told me he had.

"This isn't what I was told over the phone when I ordered." Apparently he did. Even if I couldn't infer his true meaning from his words, the look in his expressive eyes told me what I needed to know. The paper in that evidence bag wasn't the real one.

"Are you sure? It's what I was told," I answered.

"Oh yeah, this is _not_ what I ordered." He handed the paper back to me, and I put it away in my coat.

"I see. Thank you." Then I remembered my role. "What am I supposed to do now? You ordered a pizza with pineapple and ham, right? Though God knows why you'd want to." I didn't have quite the right level of affronted belligerence, but I seemed to be amusing Ray if I could judge from the look in his eyes and twist of his mouth.

"Yeah." As he grabbed the edge of the box to open it and look in, his fingers brushed mine, sending a shock through me. This was ridiculous. Surveying his meal, he said, "You got the right pizza but the wrong price, you moron." He dug into his pocket, flipped through and chose some bills, then shoved a small wad of them into a pocket on my coat. "You'll take that and like it." He grabbed the pizza box and slammed the door behind him.

I suppressed the small grin that threatened to break out on my face over the performance I'd just seen. I still had to change back into my uniform and see Beth Botrelle's attorney to get the crime scene video.

  


* * *

When Ray opened the door, rubbing her eyes, she was wearing a sweatercoat over old jeans and a black T-shirt that said, "Can't sleep. The clowns will get me," so I greeted her with "I'm glad you didn't take your shirt to heart."

Only half-conscious, it took her a minute to understand me, then she smiled. "Hi, Fraser, Dief. C'mon in. It wasn't the real paper, was it?"

"It wasn't. Ray made that very clear before he grabbed my pizza and shoved $10--"

"Into your waistband?"

I quickly sent away the image that flashed across my brain. "I don't know where you get these ideas."

"He was _supposed_ to take the pizza. It's not like anyone sane enjoys ham and pineapple on theirs."

"I might like it."

"Benton, I have seen you pick things up off the street and lick them, but never before have I been as frightened of you as I am now."

"I also talked Beth Botrelle's attorney into giving me a copy of the crime scene tape."

"Gee, and I just napped. You are _such_ a bad-ass."

"I'm a frightening bad-ass."

"Let's not get too full of ourselves."

We scrutinized the videotape for hours, with Ray finally going to sit on the floor right in front of the television to see better, until we noticed that the substituted paper we found in the evidence bag had been lying on the table in the video. The stains matched, and the time code printed on the tape provided the kind of proof we needed.

Ray shook her head, amused. "If we were slobs, we might have picked up on the coffee ring stain thing faster."

As I lifted my mug of tea from its coaster, I noticed a fine layer of powder on the coffee table. When I looked up to see what might have made it, I saw something suspicious on the ceiling. It took Ray some time to understand why I started to make buzzing noises, but eventually she understood that her apartment had been bugged. As she stuffed the videotape and paper into her capacious trench coat pockets, she loudly spoke of going to meet some journalists at a certain location.

Ray's annoyance grew as we waited in ambush out in the cold. "I am so gonna take this out on their hides. Maybe I'll start by tying them up and rubbing my freezing feet along their bare legs."

"I believe that the Geneva convention outlaws such practices." We both heard the car pull up and sped out of cover on the attack.

Gun drawn, Ray charged the car and skidded to a halt. "Freeze, you scumba-- What the--"

Shocked, Detectives Huey and Dewey looked out at us. Detective Huey said, "What are you doing here? We were sent to bust a drug deal."

Ray and I looked at one another. "The apartment," we both said. Our adversary hadn't fallen for the trap. Instead he'd taken advantage of our attempt to trap him.

"What's going on?" Detective Dewey asked. "Are you still--"

"We'll tell you later," Ray said as we left, jogging to her car.

As we raced down the hall to her apartment, a nondescript man walking by must have inflamed Ray's suspicions, because she tossed her door keys to me and gave chase. He ran, though I couldn't be certain if he ran from guilt... or terror of the tall, enraged woman pounding down the hallway behind him.

I didn't need her keys since the people who had ransacked her apartment had left the door open. The damage done appalled me.

Ray let out a torrent of obscenities when she returned, empty-handed, and surveyed the wreckage. "Bastard leapt into a idling car that had the license plates too dirtied up to read and flew off." When she poked her finger through one of the holes stabbed into her couch, it sank in all the way down to the last knuckle. "You think that they were pissed we didn't leave the paper or tape for them?"

"It's entirely possible."

"No more games. They're going down."

"The man you just nearly caught was also at the evidence lock-up."

"I figured as much. What tipped you off?"

"His scent. You?"

"My finely honed paranoia."

Back at the 27th a search through the files identified him as Sergeant Edward Polito, a 20-year veteran currently in charge of evidence and seized property. He had connections to Jake Botrelle and Robert Bedford through Project Neptune, their investigation into waterfront corruption. We didn't know if Project Neptune had any connection to "Mermaid" aside from the maritime association.

Dewey asked, "You guys investigating other cops now? You want a job in IA? Why don't you apply to IA."

"If you don't get out of my face, I'll rearrange yours," Ray answered, her voice deadly quiet, her teeth bared.

He laughed, a little nervously, and backed away. "Like you could."

"Hold on to those scraps of manhood any way you can." Once Dewey left, Ray said, "We need to smoke our bad guys out and get them to incriminate themselves."

"We have the tape and the paper, which cast enough doubt to reopen her case."

"It's not enough. I want these guys to put their heads into the noose, Benton, with no room for debate or interpretation on this paper thing. I want it to be obvious how guilty as sin they are."

These people had taken advantage of Ray Kowalski's inexperience to imprison and mark for death an innocent woman. That act had marked him as well, laying a corrosive streak of unintended complicity across his soul. "Understood."

"Botrelle's attorney handed that tape over to you with only a bit of that Mountie sweet talk. Do you think you can talk us into a meeting with Botrelle to ask about Mermaid and Callahan's?"

"I can try." Unfortunately, it seemed that face-to-face access had been thoroughly blocked. However, her attorney asked her the questions for us, and I relayed the answers to Ray after I finished the call. "She says she doesn't know what 'Mermaid' is but that we could ask State's Attorney Bedford since Jake was his chief investigator into waterfront corruption. She's certain he would know."

"Isn't that interesting."

"She also says that he called Jake the night that he died. She doesn't know what they spoke about."

"Something is definitely rotten in the state of Denmark. You think Bedford's call was about him knowing that Jake was doing his wife?"

"Perhaps."

"'Perhaps.' What about Calahan's?"

"Calahan's is a storage facility. Ray, she says that she didn't kill her husband." I handed her cell phone back to her.

"Like I've never heard that before. But this time I think I'm hearing the truth." Ray jumped as her phone vibrated. She flipped it open. "Walker. You don't say. No, I'm not. I'm doing this for Ray. You guys were friendly, so you should under--- Yeah. Yeah, I guess I could meet with you. Three hours is fine. Evidence lockup? Gotcha. Thanks." She flipped her phone shut. "That was Sam Franklin. He wants to meet with me."

"It's probably a trap."

"You think? But let's be sure of that." She flipped her phone open again and leaned casually against the wall. "State's Attorney Bedford, please. Detective Rachel Walker from the 27th. Oh, he'll want to talk to me, because Sam Franklin wants to meet me privately to tell me stuff about Jake and Beth Botrelle. I can't wait long-- Oh, hi! How's it hanging? Yeah, I think he wants to mess up your run for governor. Or maybe just cover his own ass. He's meeting me at the evidence lock-up in three hours. You might want to be there. It'll probably be educational. Yeah? It's a date. See you later. No, I don't think you really want my badge." Her mouth quirked. "Bastard hung up on me, but he said he'd show."

I couldn't help smiling. "This could blow up in our faces."

"And we could get hit by a car crossing the street. You wanna check out Calahan's?"

Detective Dewey walked by and started to open his mouth. I forestalled him by asking, "Would you like to help us apprehend the people who destroyed Walker's apartment?"

"Whoa. What? She got robbed?"

"My place got tossed by the same dillweeds who sent you on a phony goose chase for drug dealers when we met up with you," Ray said. "They even stabbed my couch to death for fun."

"I don't like to be used," Huey said, bringing Dewey in line as he often did.

"Yeah, sure," Dewey answered us. "We got a plan?"

We convinced the Calahan's employee to let us examine Jake Botrelle's long-neglected storage area. We found a case full of money, his daytimer... and Mermaid. From there, we could see and conjecture the rest.

Beth Botrelle did not kill her husband. Jake Botrelle committed suicide, a suicide that was prompted by a telephone call from State's Attorney Bedford in which he learned he was about to be indicted in a kickback scheme. The paper found under his body was a suicide note that also implicated his partner in the crime. That partner was Sam Franklin.

Fortified with our knowledge and the company of several other officers of the law, we sat in ambush while Ray met Franklin and Bedford "alone." We received a confession and more from the unknowing Franklin, who threatened to kill Ray and Bedford to cover his trail before he realized how many witnesses surrounded him. He surrendered himself to police custody.

Watching the officers lead Franklin away, Ray took a deep breath. "We got him. Two days before an innocent woman would go down forever to protect his secrets, we put things right." She shook her head. "It's gonna kill Ray that Beth Botrelle was innocent all along and Sam was this dirty."

"Ray."

"Yeah?"

"You said you transferred to the 27th to pursue this unobstructed. Your investigation is now completed." Rachel Walker had come to mean a lot to me in the months I'd known her. Life would be darker, colder, and quieter without her, but I would not stand in her way if she chose to transfer back. I simply had to know her wishes.

"So?" Then she understood and put her hand on my arm. "Benton, I'm not going back to the 23rd. I like it here. Once you've had Mountie, you never go back. Unless you're eager to get rid of me."

I couldn't quite feel the relief yet. It would come soon. "No! Not at all."

"Next time, could you and everybody leap out before the gun barrel pressing into my neck starts to leave bruises?"

"I could try. It would help if you make our culprit confess faster next time."

She beamed and laid her arm across my shoulders. "I can't wait to let Ray know we wrapped it up."

I couldn't either.

  


* * *

Ray Kowalski looked tense and worried as he opened the door but started to relax when he saw my smile. When he handed the money over for the pizza, I counted it and gave the answer Ray had provided me: "It's all good."

His face lit up at that, incandescent, beautiful, and he thanked me in a voice low and thick with emotion. I left before I could make a fool of myself.

  


* * *

"Do you really think he would have completed his assignment in a little over a week if not for what we did in the Botrelle case?" I asked as we waited for Ray Kowalski to finish speaking with Beth Botrelle inside the house. It amazed me that he'd wanted me to come along.

Ray stamped her feet, then leaned back against her car again, her gloved hands tucked under her arms. "If you're implying that he did a half-assed job on his assignment just to get loose, you're way off track. He said he almost had enough to get those drug dealers, and it looks like he was right." Her eyes kept darting to the door of the house. I couldn't help feeling that she would have gone in as Ray's unwanted backup if I hadn't been here as a quelling presence.

"I apologize."

"Nah, it's okay, I know what you mean. Ray just doesn't do anything half-assed is all. What could she be saying to him?" She sounded fiercely protective.

"Thanking him perhaps."

"Not like she thanked us. I mean, she didn't even meet us 'til tonight and wouldn't know us from Adam and Eve if we hadn't worked this one. But she and Ray have history."

"He's a strong man."

"Duh. But he couldn't save Stella, and he blames himself for that. Here a mistake of his cost another woman eight years of her life and almost got her killed. It also has to be eating at him that Franklin, this guy he just about loved and worshipped, had been a crooked cop who'd used the hell out of him. What do you think is going through Ray's head right now, even before Beth Botrelle says whatever piece she has to say?" She stamped her feet again. "Here he comes."

Head down, he walked out of the house almost blindly and went around the car to the passenger side. Ray flashed me a "be ready for anything" look as he got in. She settled into the driver's seat while I sat beside Dief in the back. I could see that Ray Kowalski was shaking a little and hear that his breathing sounded rough and unsteady. He made a small noise, swiftly swallowed. My heart pounded as I watched him struggle to retain his composure.

Despite his valiant effort, he finally broke, choking on his sobs. Ray pulled him close to her and held him. Feeling helpless in the face of his pain, I... I reached forward to put my hand on his shoulder and gripped. To my surprise, his hand closed over mine and held on tightly.

I couldn't say how long we sat there in a knot of pain and sympathy. Eventually he twitched his way free of us and sat up straight, scrubbing at his eyes. Ray pulled some napkins out of her glove compartment, which pulled a choked laugh from him.

He sounded as if he could barely breathe when he said, "Dammit, I figured that having an audience would stop me."

"You needed that," Ray said. "Now blow."

"Yes, Mum." He followed orders. "She said... she said she forgave me. She fucking thanked me."

I put my hand back on his shoulder and squeezed. He sighed and said, "I'm the last person who deserves it. It would've been so much better if she'd yelled at me."

"I know," Ray said softly. "But a thank you and forgiveness wouldn't take that long."

"Huh?"

"You were in there for a while."

"She asked me to run down the events of that night for her again."

We both winced at the thought of him doing that. "I think that qualifies as being yelled at. Strikes me as a good equivalent," she said.

"Yeah?" He sounded as if he wanted to believe. "Fuck, I want a cigarette, but I'd probably pass out if I couldn't breathe through my mouth right now." He rested his head against the back of his seat. To my surprise, I started to stroke his hair, which slowly warmed against my fingers. To my greater surprise, he leaned into my hand.

Ray watched us fondly. "I'm taking you home."

"Whose home?" he asked.

"Ray Kowalski's home. I started to make it habitable today. Still have to get you some groceries, though."

"Why the hell are you doing all this?" I heard more history in his question. It made me wonder.

"I'm guilt-tripping the hell out of you. You might as well enjoy the positives of Celtic passive-aggression while you suffer the negatives."

"Save me, Benton?"

"Yes," I answered. I couldn't say anything else, not with my hand combing his hair. Not when he wasn't objecting to it at all.

Ray just rolled her eyes and drove us away.

I shamelessly scrutinized his apartment as he led us in. While it obviously hadn't been lived in for a while from its closed-in scent, it still retained some eccentric touches of personality. The chili pepper lights hanging near the kitchen made me smile a little. My smile faded as I noticed that some of the picture frames had been placed face down on the tables.

Ray put a pen and pad in Ray Kowalski's hand as soon as he took his coat off. "Groceries," she said. "The request line is open."

"I could shop with you," he protested.

"No. You're resting here, and I'm leaving Benton here to make sure you do. He'll sit on you if he has to. Yah, Benton?" She gave me a look that saw too much, not that I'd been subtle lately.

I gave her a look that said I'd make her suffer later. She answered with a look that said I could try. Dief nudged me before I continued the unspoken warfare any further. She had nothing but our best interests at heart. I could address her delusions of matchmaking with her later.

"I'll stay," I said and tried not to blush at how relieved he looked at that. I was behaving like a 12-year-old girl.

He sat on his couch and smiled as Dief immediately settled beside him. As he wrote his list and stroked Dief's fur, he said, "Tell me how I can make this up to you, Ray."

"Help me shop for a new couch someday soon."

"Uh. Okay."

She hadn't told him that her apartment had been rifled in the course of our investigation. In fact, her apartment had only recently ceased to be a crime scene, and she was still salvaging what she could from the wreckage.

She leaned down to look at what he was writing, then whispered something in his ear. I could only make out something about playing for the home team, losing the rest of her words. Ray looked almost embarrassed, then swatted her.

She took the pad from him and saluted. "Gotta be some 24-hour store I can pick the essentials up at. Don't wait up; this may take a while." She just about flew out the door.

We passed some moments in uncomfortable silence after she left, me standing there like a fool, Ray sitting on the couch looking at the floor and stroking Dief. Finally, his mouth quirked, he looked up and said, "You deliver a mean pizza."

"You don't truly mean that."

His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed and tired, but he lit up a little. "You calling me a liar?"

It broke through the discomfort. "A gallant liar."

"That's okay then. You want something to drink?"

"No. You?"

"I'm the host, you're the guest. You're not supposed to be offering me refreshment in my home."

"Perhaps. Still...."

"No, I'm good."

Another long bout of silence passed, and I stood uncomfortably through it. His eyes looked a bit vague as he stared into space, obviously tired, his long fingers aimlessly stroking Dief's fur. I felt an irrational stab of jealousy, wishing I could be the one with my head on his leg and his fingers in my hair.

Unfortunately, Ray abruptly noticed me watching, and I could see understanding in his eyes. He stood up as I backed away. "This is ridiculous. Thought I finished this kinda thing in high school." He cleared his throat and fidgeted. "Well, since you've already seen me cry, I guess I can go for broke. I felt a kind of connection to you almost from the moment I met you."

His bravery stunned me. My horrible, lying, cowardly mouth said, "Perhaps it's that we both lost someone we loved recently. Not that I'd ever truly had this person I loved. Not that it's possible to truly have--"

Ray smiled a little, hopefully seeing through my defenses. "Benton." When his tone of voice and use of my name immediately stopped me, he continued, "Ray really trained you well. Wow, you gotta smile like that more often, rueful and tilted-like." Then he shook his head. "What the hell am I, telling you how to smile?" he chastised himself.

Unable to let him continue in such a punishing vein, I stepped close to him. "I felt a connection too, one stronger than a mutual loss of loved ones alone could create."

He leaned closer, breathing on my mouth. "Yeah? Then connect with me. Please."

Our lips brushed, testing, then met and latched in a sweet kiss. I could taste the salt of his tears upon his lips. He was warm and shaking a little in my arms. I worried that this moment might be the result of his emotional distress and blind craving--I couldn't imagine him being so forward under other circumstances--but for now he seemed to need it so badly that I could not do anything other than hold and gentle him as best I could. I rocked him a while.

"You must think I'm a total nutjob," Ray said.

"No, not at all. I simply think that you've faced a great deal of hardship in a short time, and it's caught up with you all at once." He actually struck me as being very strong.

"I haven't been me in a long time. I think I'm me now." His eyes met mine. "I'm just so damned tired of all the lying and the games."

I simply kissed him in response.

"I'm gonna keep babbling crazy stuff if you reward me with a kiss every time."

"I see no problem in that."

"Me kissing you back now," he did so, "is totally me, in case you're wondering."

"Thank you."

He sighed and leaned against me. "I'm so tired."

"You should sleep."

"I don't think I could."

"I'll stay with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

We took off our boots and belts before settling under the covers. Breathing in the scent of fresh sheets, I better understood where Ray had been lately; her mess of an apartment still unsettled her so much that she'd been spending a great deal of time out. As Ray Kowalski turned out the light, he sighed, "Missed this." Having never slept with anyone for long, I could only curl in closer to him and let his living warmth lull me into sleep.

Sometime in the night Ray woke me. "My, Benton Fraser, what thick fur you have."

"That would be Diefenbaker, the glutton. He's sleeping between us." I would have words with him later.

"Yeah, but, God, it's 3 a.m. and I don't think Ray's in the apartment."

I felt a tendril of worry slither through my stomach. "No?"

"No. Even as tired as I am, I'd wake up if the door was unlocked and opened. My nerves've been kinda trip-wired lately."

"Can you call her?"

In the dimness the light of the buttons on his cell phone suddenly flared to life nearby then disappeared as he placed it to his ear. "C'mon, c'mon," Ray muttered. Then: "Ray! Where the fuck are you? What? You're-- Get your ass back here. No. No, I don't need those!" I could almost hear the blush in his voice. "Yes, I'm sure! Well-- No! Ray.... We're in bed, okay? Not like that. You won't see anything that'll make you go blind. Oh, shut up. Come back. I'm up now, aren't I? Yeah. Get here." I heard him close off the phone. "I'm going to kick her ass."

I put my arm across Dief and touched Ray's arm. "I'll help."

We quietly rested together in the dark, drifting a while, until the apartment door clicked open. I heard the refrigerator door open and the sound of various things being placed inside. I heard similar things going on with the cabinets. Finally she walked into the room, crouched down next to the night table, opened a drawer, and put something in.

At that point Ray grabbed her and pulled her down onto the bed on top of us, to Dief's very vocal disgust. "Hey!" she shouted.

"I said I'd kick her ass, right, Benton?"

"You did."

"Whose partner are you?" she protested. Then she giggled and writhed. "Ray! I'm gonna kill you!" It made me wish I had better night vision.

"Stay the night, brat," he said.

"Nah. You and Benton seem fine here like--"

"Fully clothed."

"You didn't take your boots off? Hey, you tickle me again, and you're an eunuch, okay? I'm staying with Max."

"And who's Max?" He sounded so affronted that I nearly laughed.

"Don't worry, my virtue, such as it is, is safe. She knows I'd break her fingers if she tried anything I didn't want."

"Hunh?"

"Ray, this bed is too small for the four of us," I said.

"Sorry," they both said.

From what I could tell, Ray petted Dief, climbed up to kiss my forehead, and kissed some unidentified part of Ray, accidentally putting her elbows and knees a few places she shouldn't have before she rolled free of us. "Good night, guys," she said. "See ya."

"Max?" Ray asked me once she left.

"That's a long story. It can wait for another time."

"I'm trusting you on that."

I hoped he could hear how much that warmed me when I said, "Good night, Ray."

  


* * *

I awoke alone, though Ray's side of the bed remained warm. Even Dief had gone. I could smell coffee and pancakes. When I walked out to the kitchen, Ray turned and smiled at me. "What do you take for breakfast?" He looked much less tired and worn out.

In the clear morning light, he looked wonderful and very dear.

"Pancakes and juice will be fine. If you have juice, that is," I answered as I shyly smiled back.

"Lucky for you I got a visit from the grocery fairy last night."

He put a tree-shaped pancake, one that might be an elephant, and a circular one on my plate. "What's the circular one?" I asked.

He snorted. "It's a coin, Benton."

"I see. Very cunning."

"I'm starting to understand why you don't mind me being a nutjob. Speaking of nuts, that girl bought me the super deluxe _real_ maple syrup. Unless she bought it for you."

"Anything's possible."

Breakfast passed pleasantly and comfortably, with none of the awkwardness I might have expected after a night spent together. Ray seemed to be as happy with me while well rested as he'd been while tired and desperate. Finally he said, "The next few days the CPD is going to own my ass. I mean, with my own assignment wrapped up, the Botrelle thing, and the IA investigation it'll be a while before I see daylight again as a free man. But... I wanna see you, Benton, when I can."

So simple, so easy. "I would... like that very much."

He beamed at me. "Hey, the happy smile's as pretty as the rueful one. I'm holding you to that."

"I wouldn't expect you to do anything less."

  


* * *

"There is no such thing as a blue raspberry," I said.

Ray toasted me with her glass, which contained a violently blue liquid. "The fine people at Kraft Foods beg to differ. Besides, this is Mountain Berry Blue, not blue raspberry. It probably has some blueberry equivalent in it, thus explaining the reasoning behind the color here."

"I'm afraid."

"Oh, yeah."

"Don't even think of giving that donut to Dief."

"Wasn't."

"Liar."

Welsh stopped at Ray's desk. "Walker, I'm expecting you to make your new partner welcome."

Ray nearly overturned her chair backward. "Whoa! What? What new partner?"

"The one you're starting out today."

"I already have a partner."

"This may surprise you, but the brass feels that you should be partnered with a member of the Chicago Police Department. Isn't that a kick in the pants."

"Sounds like discrimination against Canadians to me. Right, Fraser?"

Despite my worry over what this all portended, I answered, "I am not getting involved here. It's not my place."

"Wimp. Please, sir, tell me it's not Vecchio you're putting me with. It would result in the world's fastest homicide investigation, and a jury of my peers would declare it justifiable in a snap."

"No, it's not Vecchio."

"Then give him to Vecchio."

"I'm not that cruel."

Ray coughed out an aborted laugh. "Aw, man."

"It might not be so bad," I said.

"Yeah, it might be worse. Okay, where's Zippy the Wonder Partner?"

"In my office," Welsh said. We followed him in. A moment later Ray squealed and tackled the figure sitting in Welsh's chair with his feet up on the desk. Welsh snapped, "Kowalski, put your feet down."

I felt something in my chest expand and breathe. It might have been my heart.

Ray Kowalski grinned, set his feet on the floor, and tried to keep his balance as Ray mobbed him. "Yessir. Safer that way anyway now." Then Dief all but leapt into his lap.

"You son of a bitch!" she exclaimed. "Uh, I meant Ray, not you, sir. Ray, why didn't you say anything? We just saw you two days ago."

"Didn't know if it would go through and didn't want to get your hopes up. At least, I hope they'd be hopes." His eyes asked for forgiveness and promised a more detailed explanation later. I nodded.

I hadn't seen him since that morning except for that brief friendly outing we'd had with Ray. Was he free now? Could we see where things would go?

Welsh said, "IA is having a field day grilling the 23rd over who knew what about the scrutiny on Kowalski and what Franklin was up to. The brass figured he'd be better off out of the way somewhere safe."

"But you decided to put him with me and Fraser anyway?"

"I can change my mind, Walker."

"Not necessary, sir! Fraser, get over here."

"I'm waiting until it's safe." As if safety ever entered the equation where the Rays were concerned.

"Wimp," they said, both knowing me too well. Yet I didn't mind.

As we watched Ray, Ray, and Dief roughhouse, Welsh muttered to me, "You realize that you're going to have to be the level-headed member of the team."

Given my feelings, especially when Ray Kowalski looked at me in a way that included me in the exuberance and melted me on the spot, I didn't know if that were possible. "They're not as insane and reckless as they pretend to be, sir."

"I guess nobody could be."

As we trooped out of the office to Ray's desk, I noticed Marchese watching us with a sour expression on his face. He looked less like Ray Vecchio that way. Feeling lighter than I had in a long time, smiling, I turned away.

 

### End


End file.
